A dance
by Ghost of Harrenhal
Summary: Donna and Harvey have recently become a thing and they're dancing at Mike and Rachel's wedding.


They'd never been very soft given the uncertain nature of the borders crossed between them. For years, they had tried not to touch the edge and steered clear of lingering touch. Now, all of that carefully crafted physical distance has been crumbling silently around them. The remnants of their line in the sand blurs more unrecognizable whenever they hold hands or he guides her with his fingers resting on the small of her back. It's a fresh reality Harvey's rather fond of.

With that in mind he slides his arm further around her waist while they dance, brushing his palm against the soft skin at her back, bare in the midnight blue dress with thin straps she chose to attend Mike and Rachel's wedding. He almost misses her shiver, but doesn't, and echoes the sentiment.

"Cold?"

She hums an agreement and Harvey feels it more than hears it, "But that's on me for committing to this dress."

He nods lightly before splaying the hand at her waist to rub it slowly up and down her back.

She hums again, content, and shivers for an entirely different reason.

"Like that hum?" He jokes and she pinches the back of his neck playfully.

"Shut up" she murmurs, and something about her tone, halfhearted and soft, makes him think her eyes are probably closed. He smiles despite himself.

If this were some other time Harvey would have had it in him to wish there were less people around to make conjectures about them. Then again, if this were some other time, their assumptions wouldn't have been correct in guessing he has a fresh memory of her taste.

Either way it's hard to mind gossip when he can't regret her warmth, her perfume or how uncharacteristically comfortable he feels.

"It'll be a busy week at the rumor mill."

He almost giggles - a little off on a blend of scotch and champagne - at the synchronicity of their thoughts.

"Sure, but who cares" he answers, and it rolls off his tongue with the kind of drunk abandon that makes her snort an ironic laugh.

"You're not the one who can already feel the chatter die out when you walk past the associates on Tuesday."

"Tuesday?"

"Tuesday."

"What about Monday?" One less drink and his mind wouldn't have been addled enough to ask such silly questions to her of all people.

"I'm off on Monday."

"On whose authority?"

They were cheek to cheek, but Donna leans back at that to narrow her eyes at him, "The greatest there is: my own" there is a tinge of outrage in her voice. He chuckles.

"Sorry I asked"

"You better be."

She stares at Harvey suspiciously for a beat longer, until he smiles and she concedes, leaning into his chest again.

They continue to sway together, ever effortless in matching each other's rhythm, and how _stupid,_ Harvey thinks, to have wasted so much time getting here.

He could've spared her years of pain and himself years of loneliness, if only he had been less of a coward when it came to emotional risks, but he can't change the past.

He _can_ , however, enjoy the present, her, _them,_ as much as he can, for as long as he can.

Harvey flexes the hand warming her back with friction and stills it before tracing her spine with his index finger. Donna sighs and it raises the hairs on the back of his neck when he thinks of other ways to make her breathless.

"I don't want to leave yet" she whispers, turning her head to make sure her words fall right into his ear with a shiver.

"Did I ask you to?" he says coyly

"I know what you're playing at. We have to see Mike and Rachel off."

"Do we? This is their second wedding, how sacred can it be?" He can't see it but he knows she's rolling her eyes.

"Eloping doesn't count if I wasn't there"

"Your sense of self-importance is astounding"

"Said the pot to the kettle" She retorts, leaning back with a raised eyebrow.

He smiles "Fair enough"

Before Donna can move closer again, he brings the hand at her waist to caress her cheek. Their eyes meet, quiet and soft, and Harvey is struck sober, for the millionth time in his life, by how beautiful she is. Then, without warning, she covers his hand with hers, pulls it towards her lips and kisses his palm, so tender he feels his chest break open with bright affection for her.

There are so many things he would like to tell her then, so many things to ask, even more to apologize for but they all turn to fog in his mind when she touches her lips to his.

It's pure, unadulterated bliss.


End file.
